


Understand Me

by JovialBondservant



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Cunnilingus, Denied orgasm, F/M, Fingering, Hate Sex, Vaginal Sex, ends with angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-09-28 21:20:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20432624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JovialBondservant/pseuds/JovialBondservant
Summary: “You were a spoiled brat who should pay for that crest. Maybe I’ll collect the debt.”In which Sylvain collects said debt, and the professor herself learns a lesson.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of Sylvain/Byleth’s B support conversation.

“You know what? I'm a bit jealous. The whole time you were growing up, you never knew you had a Crest. You were free. Nobody pretended to like you. I kind of hate you for that... You were a spoiled brat who should pay for that Crest. Maybe I'll collect the debt.”

Byleth frowned.

Despite the fact that Sylvain had laughed off his darker comments as a joke earlier, it still made her feel uneasy thinking back on them.

Byleth thought of how Sylvain’s youth was isolating and hard. How he’d grown up hated by his brother, and pressured by his parents to bring home someone suitable to carry on the crest-bearing Gautier bloodline.

Sylvain had often spoke of his resentment toward his crest before the revelation of her own had come to light.

And now?

His resentment was directed at her.

She didn’t want him to let this come between them, further isolating Sylvain from those around him. Sylvain claimed to have been joking, but Byleth knew that his words stemmed from a semblance of truth and worried that if left to fester, would grow into a darker mentality.

The troubled professor shook her head. Sylvain might be in a rough spot right now, but he’ll come around. He always does.

Despite it being later in the evening, as the many students emptied out of the dining hall to head back to their rooms, Byleth found herself searching out for a tossled head of fiery red hair. Catching her eye from across the room, the young instructor decided to invite Sylvain to tea, requesting that he follow her to her own personal quarters.

—

“Well now professor, inviting me back to your room! How very forward of you.” Sylvain laughed lightly as he followed behind his mentor. “Guess you couldn’t resist my charm any longer.”

“It’s just tea and light conversation.” Byleth looked to him with traces of amusement in her eyes, partially relieved to already feel at ease with her rogue-ish companion. She knew however, that this kind of banter is often his signature front, and still found herself worried over his true feelings.

“Ah well, a guy can dream.” Sylvain winked at her, and then shrugged off his jacket as they entered her room, leaving him in just his white undershirt and uniform pants.

“I’ll get the tea started, would you like to have a seat?”

Sylvain shook his head, and that’s when Byleth noticed his features had become more serious.

“Alright professor, you mind telling me what I’m really doing here?” He crossed his arms as he watched her put down the ceramic jar of tea leaves she’d only just pulled out of her cabinet.

“I wanted to discuss our conversation from earlier.” She spoke plainly, wary of her guests current state.

He shook his head. “You know I didn’t mean anything by it. I was only joking.”

“I know.” Byleth neglected the ruse of a simple visit for tea and decided to get straight to the point. “You’re always saying that I don’t understand the difficulties that come with having a crest,”

“Well it’s true, you don’t.” Sylvain turned away dismissively, his hand on the doorknob, already regretting this visit and ready to make his leave.

“Then help me understand,” Byleth was not ready to let him go until she’d had a moment to diffuse the anger and tension between the two. “Sylvain, please.”

She paused, and almost felt ashamed at how desperate her plea sounded.

But it seemed to work, his hand dropped from the doorknob and he let out a sigh.

He turned back to his professor, taking the steps needed to close the space between the two. His eyes looked over her, so seemingly distraught.

And then he reached for her hand. Delicate and so much smaller than his own hands, yet still so powerful and capable, the mercenary felt her heart catch in her throat as he lifted her hand to his lips, kissing the knuckles lightly.

“Sylvain,” her voice soft and the remaining words unspoken, the uncertainty she felt began to dissipate as he released her hand to take hold of her face, kissing her gently—lips touching lips, a shared sigh between them.

Caressing the side of her face with his thumb, he takes pause to revel in the sight. Usually so emotionless, Sylvain notes the look of surprise on Byleth’s face, coupled with a deep flush that paints her cheeks rose.

He doesn’t say anything, though he knows there are questions she wants to ask. He gives her a moment to shut down his advances before leaning in again to taste her lips once more.

The young professor couldn’t help but to close her eyes in anticipation, feeling his mouth move against her own, she was captivated by the contact.

The flick of his tongue teased her lips apart, and she could do nothing but respond with a soft, small sound as the kiss escalated between them.

The feeling of his tongue scraping at her teeth felt so foreign, yet Byleth welcomed the sensation, taking awe and wonder at such an intimate act she had never before experienced.

His hand softly danced down from the side of her face, to her neck, then down to her collarbone where his fingers slipped under the fabric of her cloak, teasing the skin beneath with his gentle touch.

He pushes it to the side, revealing her shoulder and he begins to kiss down her neck in his attempts to taste all the newly exposed skin. She shrugs off her cloak completely and pulls him closer, succumbing to her curiosity.

He bites down on her shoulder.

Immediately, she gasps, and he takes a moment to gauge her reaction, but she nods at him, urging him to continue.

Byleth steadies herself, and though she didn’t have a heart beat, she knew if she did, it would have been racing.

He grins wickedly as he devours her body, every bit of skin peeking out from her clothes is being nipped and kissed, his hands snaking around her lithe little waist to anchor her smaller body to him.

The thrill of having his professor come undone before him, because of him, leaves the redheaded student dizzy with excitement.

She is completely at his mercy and under his control as he walks her backward to the bed, the back of her legs running into the mattress as he urges her to lean into the bed.

With the professor now lying down beneath the brazen young man, he takes the liberty to kiss her exposed stomach, his fingertips skirting down her sides delicately, in an almost ticklish manner.

Craving the contact on her lips, Byleth rakes her fingers through her student’s fiery hair as he lavishes kisses across her midriff, and tugging slightly, she beckons him back up to her face.

Sylvain looks up at his mentor, and she begins to feel wary of the mischievous look in his eyes.

He smirks.

Utilizing the dagger kept around the professor’s waist, Sylvain slides the blade under the front of her little black shorts and neatly cuts through the layers of fabric, nicking her in the process. He leans down low on her abdomen at the newfound opening in her clothes, taking in the sight of the cut before he laps up the little bit of blood that had begun to trickle from the wound.

The lick of his tongue is slow and drawn out, causing the professor to hiss at the pain he elicits from her. She feels herself clinging to the sheets in response, preparing herself for further torture.

Running his fingers over the small slash in her skin, he tears apart her ruined shorts and hoists her legs up over his shoulders. Starting at her inner thigh, he kisses apologies straight down to her cunt.

Restless, Byleth shudders at his touch, as heat pools in her lower body.

Between the two of them, Sylvain was far more experienced in all things sex related, Byleth had never even had the thought to touch herself in a heated and lustful way.

The young woman continued to find herself to be fascinated with the sensations, and desperate for more.

Sylvain took pleasure in enjoying her most delicate parts, tongue sliding between her folds in a knowing way, taking the time to suck on the spot that he knew would drive her wild. She writhed under his touch.

He pulls away.

Normally cool and collected, the professor could not help but to let out a whimper at the loss, her hand quickly covering her mouth in embarrassment.

Sylvain stood up before her, his previously playful expression turned dark.

“Alright professor, lets change things up a bit.”

She sits up in anticipation, and the young man guides her to her knees as he crawls on the bed behind her. His hair was tossled and messy, face flushed from his endeavors. He wipes off the mixture of arousal and saliva from his mouth with the back of his hand and tugs down on the remnants of the professor’s signature leggings.

He pushes at her back, gentle but firm, getting her into position on all fours.

Despite his cold demeanor, Byleth can’t help but to sigh in relief as he fingered her cunt from behind, massaging her shapely rear with his spare hand.

Then, without warning, he swats her, making her jolt with surprise. The stunned young woman turns around to face him—blue, disheveled hair falling across her face, but she doesn’t get a word in before he enters her; his first two fingers pushed in to the knuckle, feeling her walls from within.

She gasps, tears stinging in her deep ocean eyes as her grip on the sheets tightens.

He hears the soft sounds of discomfort and chuckles darkly.

“Professor, you’re pretty tight, and those are just my fingers.”

He pumps his digits in and out, loosening the slick hole, teasing the wetness out from her entrance as she feels herself dripping down her leg.

He leans over the much smaller woman, his chest pressing into her back, both still wearing clothes but the heat between them unbearable.

He laughs at her already labored breathing.

“Let’s see if you can handle the rest of me.”

He slides his fingers out, taking care to tease her swollen nub before completely removing his hand from her heat.

Byleth hears herself swear beneath her breath, feeling at a loss with his fingers now gone from her. Sylvain undoes his belt, and pushes his pants down. He gives her no time to prepare herself before he grips her hips, and finds himself within her.

His thrusts are slow and rhythmic, penetrating Byleth deep into her core. It’s painful, but she feels frightfully needy, wanting to experience each sensation, indulging in sinful desire.

Sylvain’s hands rove up her back, and he unties the lace-up backing of her top, letting it fall from her figure. Now completely exposed beneath him, he feels her body, his short blunt nails leaving red trail marks down her back.

He takes in the expanse of her pale skin, with scatterings of marks and scars from battles long before he knew her. Nothing but fierce, physical perfection; he can’t help but enjoy watching her move against him, naked and encompassing his length. The simple sight spurs the red-head, his whole body filling with lust and desire for this moment— one he had only ever dreamed of.

He shakes his head and has to remind himself not to enjoy this too much, that he still hated her out of sheer jealousy and was only here to make a point.

Pushing her upper body into the bed, leaving her ass-up, he pounds into her from behind.

He could afford to enjoy himself a little.

Byleth feels his motions becoming more and more erratic as the feeling of this angle was driving Sylvain closer to his finish.

She notices that the pain she had once felt had faded into an insatiable feeling of pleasure as well, her desire only building with each of his movements.

Her body ached for release.

She slid her hand across the sheets closer to her body, yearning to reach for the spot Sylvain had only teased.

Reaching her heat, fingers just gracing her small bud, Sylvain notices her hand and yanks it away. Pinning it down to the bed, his full weight loomed atop her body as he rocked into her.

She cried out, desperate for a climax she knew nothing of, but her body still yearned for.

With his other hand, Sylvain pushed her head into the mattress, muffling her cries, thrusting hard into her body until he felt himself unload inside her.

He hissed at the release, hands gripping her hips so tightly he was sure to leave bruises.

Letting go of her delicate figure and climbing off, he could hear his professor whimper, limbs shaking as she sat up to look at him.

He turned away, not wanting to look her in the eyes, but unable to keep himself from stealing glances. He pulled up his pants and secured his belt, she covered her chest with a blanket. Finally chancing a look, the expression she wore was almost enough to make him feel guilty.

Almost.

He knew she didn’t finish, he didn’t intend to let her. Her often apathetic eyes now pleaded with him, begging him to give her the same pleasures he allotted himself.

Looking her over one last time, he attempted to swallow back any remaining regrets. This would probably be the first and last time he would see his professor like this, nearly naked before him, his own cum pooling out from her body onto the sheets below.

He had always wanted her, from the moment he first saw her. Hating her didn’t change that, it just made things difficult.

He cleared his throat.

“That’s what it feels like to have a crest.” He turned away. “I only wanted you for what you could give me, nothing more. I pretended to like you so I could have a good time. I don’t actually care about you, or how you feel.”

Byleth’s eyes narrowed at his words, so uncharacteristicly cold.

Sylvain walked to the door.

“Thanks for the tea, professor, I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

The click of the door shutting as he left felt so final. Byleth trembled as the rush of cool air caressed her skin. She took a deep breath to recompose herself and reached for her clothes.

As Sylvain walked away he finally gave in to the feelings of guilt and regret as a scream threatened to erupt from his throat.

He ran his shaking hands through his hair and hurried to find his way back to his dorm.

He felt sick.


	2. Regret Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the passing of many moons, Sylvain struggles to remain indifferent to the consequences of his actions.

Sylvain took a deep breath, and let out a long sigh.

Tucked away in the corner of the training grounds, the young student had taken to maintenancing the blades of the many swords and lances stored in their artillery, trying to keep busy. He wondered if his time would be better spent trying to rest, but knew that sleep would not come to him, even if he tried. The whole monastery was in such disarray, with Edelgard and the Empire only hours away from invading it seemed like it was hard for even the most optimistic of peers to shake the impending sense of doom. 

Earlier the professor had attempted to keep the students’ spirits alight, offering them hopeful words with good intentions. But throughout her tenure at Garreg Mach, her once distant, blank visage had evolved into something more personable and was just as telling as anyone else’s — so long as you knew what to look for. 

The young man shook his head. As if he could claim to know anything about her. 

A fair amount of time had passed since the professor had extended to him an ill-fated invitation to tea, and since then Sylvain had been hyper-aware of how the professor treated him now. He had been expecting her to be upset with him, hoping for her to be upset if he was honest with himself, but instead, she was blatantly indifferent towards him. He was certain this was the far worse outcome. Her tolerance for his playful teasing in class was nonexistent, there were no more one-on-one after class discussions, he could never get ahold of her for a training session and couldn’t recall the last time he’d actually sat down to have real tea and conversation with her. To think there was once a time when he did all of these things, so carefree and so unaware of how he’d eventually fuck things up. She busied herself with her other students now. 

He set aside the lance he been sharpening previously in favor of one of his own. Thinking back to that night, all those many moons ago, it still made his stomach uneasy and his chest feel tight with regret. Yet even now, there was some part of him that was hellbent on maintaining his pride in this matter, which was unusual for him. He was the kind of guy who would dump and get dumped by so many of the women he wooed, uncaring of any lasting effect it had on his reputation or what people thought of him. 

Still, he relented. Unable to apologize or even bring up the event to his professor, unwilling to take accountability for having ruined whatever sort of relationship they once had.

Or could have had.

Gripping the staff of the lance in his hand, he settled himself. He would rather die than reconcile with the professor. Spoiled as she was, she could use a little bit of harsh reality now and again. And with the way things were shaping out to be, it was likely death would be greeting them soon, and he wouldn’t live much longer to ponder this anyway.

What he had done was wrong, but he wasn’t wrong for doing it. In the end, he was just teaching his professor a lesson. He could live with that. 

He heard a shuffle at the door, and he whipped his head around in response. Hand on his faithful weapon, he shifted into a battle-ready stance aimed at whoever dared to enter these quarters. 

And there she stood, as if his own weary thoughts had summoned her. Pale mint hair crowning her curious face, cautious yet inquisitive, peeking out from behind the large wooden door. Would he ever get used to how her now-green eyes pierced his very soul?

“Professor,” he felt his shoulders relax as the tension faded from his body. He set aside his lance. “You startled me. Are you...looking for something?”

She stepped into the room completely, closing the door behind her. She shook her head. “‘I apologize. I was looking for Dimitri, he worries me.” 

Her words were slow and deliberate as she spoke to him, but he could tell she was genuinely concerned by the look on her face. They all were. Their leader had taken Edelgard’s betrayal especially hard, distancing himself from the rest of the team, especially affecting their mentor. He watched from afar, the pain in the professor’s eyes as her attempts to reach out to him were shunned and disregarded, yet she still kept trying. Always at his side. He had often wondered to himself if the professor had, or would have ever cared for him in the same regard. He told himself he wasn’t jealous. 

“I haven’t seen him lately, but I’m sure he’s fine.” He swallowed hard, the realization that it was just the two of them had started to settle in. Sylvain thought of how long it had been since they’d been alone together. “I bet Dedue’s cheering him up as we speak.”

She nodded, but still managed to look dismayed. 

The red-headed warrior was at a loss for words, yet he couldn’t help but crave her presence despite him clinging to the notion that he loathed her. He wasn’t ready to have her leave in search of someone else.

“How are you holding up, then?” She was a good distance away from him, out of reach and capable of leaving at a moments’ notice, but she was trying. She was still closed off to him, arms across her chest, hugging herself. She looked so unusually small, this one-woman army, the fiercest fighter on the battlefield, capable of tearing down demonic beasts and leading a spirited team of students to victory in even the grimmest of situations. 

By the Goddess. Whatever made him think he was worthy of trying to tarnish her?

He must’ve looked troubled because before he could really comprehend his tumultuous thought process, she entered his space, and reached out a hand to gently touch his face.

“Sylvain, are you okay..?”

The light touch of her fingertips on his cheek set him off, he snapped at her. 

“I hate you, remember?” 

She frowned, and he could see the flash of anger in her stormy ocean eyes. “You’re still my student, I’m still going to care for you.” She was unabashedly firm when she spoke, no longer feeling small before him.

He couldn’t take it. Everything felt like too much. When he had taken her in her quarters, pushed her into her bed and fucked her with no regard, left her cold and betrayed, he expected rage.

He could handle rage.

But the indifference caught him by surprise and left him suffering for many moons on end. She couldn’t stand before him now, claiming she cared for him. He didn’t deserve her care. Didn’t even want it. 

“How about you go find our poor pathetic prince and maybe direct some of your care his way, huh?” The brash young noble turned away, crossing his arms, trying to shut himself away from her.

“How about you stop acting like an ass? We’re both adults, Sylvain. Act like it.”

Sylvain cast a glance in her direction. For as long as he’d known the professor, she hadn’t been one for crass, figurative speech. She was however, always ready to finish a good fight.

“I understand you’ve got a problem with me, but we are on the same team. And at the end of the day, you have to trust that I will let no harm befall  _ any _ of my students. Not even you.”

Sylvain shook his head. He fully believed in the expertise of his professor, who was previously a mercenary with a reputation in her own right. But at the end of the day, he had very little faith in the outcome of their upcoming battle.

“Professor, if we die tomorrow, will you have any regrets?” He spoke softly, deciding he didn’t want to fight with his mentor, and effectively changing the air between them. 

The mercenary was quiet for a moment, trying to gauge the change in his tone. “Will you?”

“No.” His voice was solemn, it betrayed him. He could go on forever lying to himself, but he would always be transparent to Byleth. 

“Very well then.” She eyed the man before him, his face stern as he watched her, body still turned away from her. 

She narrowed her eyes in a calculating manner, and then with the speed of the wind itself, she took hold of the nearest lance, and swung with all her might. Crouched low so that she was at level with his knees, the sweep of her staff knocked into the back of his legs and the tall fellow, completely caught off guard, came crashing down on his back. 

Lying on the ground, he looked up at the women who stood above him, straight-faced yet he still knew her to be smug over his easy defeat. She shrugged off her cloak and knelt beside him. “Let’s give you something to regret then.”

When she leaned down to kiss him, heady and chaste, Sylvain was shocked and confused; certain he’d died, and that the goddess herself had laid her lips on his to take him. 

He cursed himself for being so eager to worship her, his body responded like he was born for only her, yearning and eager to be impossibly close. She kissed his temple, his crown, his chin, his neck — he took hold of the sides of her face, and pulled her up to meet his lips. He had never known himself to be so desperate, so wanting. He met her with hot, open-mouthed kisses, the sensation overwhelming him as his body ached with need. 

He could die. He wanted to devour her right then and there, he wanted to both atone for his past sins and create new ones, he wanted to give and receive pleasure, the two of them moving against each other in the most intimate of ways.

He heard a low laugh as she pulled away from him. She flashed a knowing, sly smile. He sat up, trying to mask his confusion, his labored breathing. She shoved at his chest pushing him back down. Reaching behind her back, she managed to tug on the cords that held her corsetted top together, undoing the ties and effectively removing the support for her heavy breasts. She pushed the top down past her waist and shimmied out of her shorts and leggings as well, undressing completely before him. He was trying not to stare as he took in her fully exposed body, but he couldn’t help it. Her figure was so stunning, he wanted it imprinted in his mind how she looked. Her smooth, milky skin broken up by the marks and scars she’d acquired, he wanted to kiss every one, and hold tight to him the lithe little waist that flared out into wide hips, sinewy thighs. 

She saddled his waist as he lay on the floor, and he looked up to her face. Her shoulder length hair which once was reminiscent of the night sky, was now more akin to the wild ocean north of Farghus. It framed her face as she looked down on him, and she appeared to be more solemn than he would have liked. She leaned forward, her breasts hanging low, begging to be grasped by his greedy hands, as she pressed her body into his chest. 

Face to face, eyes locked on one another, Sylvain did not dare to even breathe.

“Please,” she whispered so faintly, he could feel it more so than hear it. “Let’s pretend as though we are not fated to face death tomorrow.”

He understood. 

Finally allowing himself to move, he delicately ran his hands down her back and rounded her ass, hoisting her further forward so that her breasts were level with his face. 

Tilting his chin up, he welcomed the warmth of a soft, pink nipple in his mouth, sucking gently. 

She drew in a sharp breath, hissing at the sensation, and then leaned into the feeling, letting the full weight of her bosom fall heavy on his face. The crimson head of hair bobbed up and down, as he teased her flesh, sucking and kissing, unable to get enough. He reached up to take hold of the unattended breast, kneading gently at the expanse in his hand. 

The heated professor could already feel her body reacting to his touch, igniting the fire within. Hips beginning to move of their own accord, she rocked against his body where she sat, low on his stomach and already beginning to feel wet.

Heavy in his hand, Sylvain massaged the breast in his palm, taking care to give attention to his teacher’s pert nipple, rubbing and pinching. He felt himself growing hard in response to the smalls sighs and surprised gasps she elicited. 

Her position on his stomach was not quite where he wanted her. 

Letting her breast fall from his lips, he sat up slowly, guiding her down to his lap. 

She settled her hands on his shoulders to steady herself, and found herself captivated with the man before her. His fiery hair falling over his amber eyes, pupils dilated and so full of desire. Face flush, lips parted, she couldn’t help but kiss him, and he was eager to respond. With her now perfectly positioned on his lap, he felt his hips jut up towards her heat, cursing the clothing he wore that kept them apart. Her kisses left him breathless, dizzy. Lightheaded, he briefly wondered if he would spend eternity craving this woman, if she would alone would drive him mad. 

He felt her leaning into him, pushing him back. He rested on his elbows as they slowly descended, her once again on top, still providing the needed friction between them. Kisses becoming more curious, the eager gentleman allowed his hands wander, enjoying the feeling of her strong thighs, shapely rear. 

Parting from their kiss, Byleth pulled away from him, choosing to completely reposition herself so that she was no longer sitting on his lap, but rather hovering just slightly over his face. 

Laying beneath her, Sylvain felt his heart racing as he looked up at her. No words needed to be spoken between them, he reached up to grab the sides of her hips, pulling her down to his mouth as he lapped at her wetness fervently. 

Feeling the fire deep within her core, the young professor rocked against her student’s face without thought as to whether or not he was being smothered beneath her. All that mattered was the pleasure, chasing that fleeting feeling that had remained ever elusive, she sought out what she knew not to be. Aching for orgasm, never able to replicate the sensations because she was always too damn  _ busy _ , this might be her last and only chance to experience such a climax. 

He slid his tongue inside her, long and slow, teasing the fluid from her, before moving to nip lightly on her most sensitive part. Hips jerking without warrant, her student groaned beneath her, the vibrations driving her ever closer.

“ _ Fuck, _ I’m--”

She didn’t have to say anymore, Sylvain gave a small nod, face buried in her cunt, and with his hands, gently urged her to lift herself just enough. At the slightest opening, he slid his hand between her legs, exhilarated at the chance to give this woman true physical bliss, while absolutely aching with need himself.

Positioning his hand just so, he slid his thumb through the slick folds, delighting in the feeling of her, wet and ready, teased to arousal by his own tongue. Attempting to push her over the edge, he filled her with a pair of digits, and briefly circled her anus with his thumb, the sensations making her squirm. Dripping and heated, his fingers moved inside her easily, pumping while he continued to eat her out, tongue pressing into her clit with  _ just _ the right amount of pressure. He added a third finger, and continued to give attention to her tighter rear hole with his thumb, swirling and pressing into her with the right amount of pressure. The breathy sounds she let slip as she neared the edge grew in volume, increasing the urgency. He pumped into her faster, trying to match the rhythmic rocking of her hips on his face, drawing out pleasure as he tended to her clit with feverish intensity.

She let out a scream. She felt unleashed, waves of pleasure unlike anything she had ever felt washed over her, the sensations so powerful she felt her legs go weak. Unable to hold herself up, she slumped into Sylvain’s face. He removed his fingers but continued to nuzzle at her heat, lapping up the juices that spilled from her as she came all over him. Sensitive, she trembled at his touch, and forced herself to find the strength to climb off him. 

Sitting up, side by side, the two of them breathing heavily, Sylvain cautiously looked over at the woman beside him. Her eyes were shut tight, head resting in her hand as she worked to slow her breathing.

She shook her head and stood, already beginning the process of redressing. 

He swallowed thickly, unable to find anything to say and attempted to hide the hard-on he still had to take care of. 

Clothes haphazardly thrown on and the room smelling like sex, he could tell she was ready to make her exit. He felt panicked at the thought of her walking out on him, without a chance for resolve. He knew he should say something, _anything_, but still, he could not find the words.

“Sorry for the distraction. If you still hate me, that’s fine, but,” her voice still wavering, Byleth avoided contact with his eyes. “Try not to die tomorrow, please.”

Sylvain felt his stomach sink as he watched her head to the door with little regard for what had just happened. The regrets he had tried to ignore were beginning to surface, threatening to choke him. His throat felt thick, and he was certain he was unable to say anything if he tried.

She graced him with a final glance as she closed the door behind her. 

With her presence gone, his mind finally caught up to the situation and was suddenly reeling with all the things he wanted to say to her. 

Suddenly worry took root in his heart, that perhaps, after all, he was not ready to die. That maybe there were regrets that didn’t have to be regrets. 

Steadying himself with purpose he returned to the task he had originally begun, grabbing a sword and examining the blade he decided that maybe he wasn’t fated to die tomorrow, and neither was she. And after they’d defeated the Empire he would dedicate himself to being the kind of man who was actually worthy of having held so closely, his dear professor.

By the dusk of next evening however, Sylvain would soon know that the panic he had felt watching her walk away that night would be nothing compared the wretched fear he would soon feel when scouring the aftermath of the battlefield, searching for any trace of her. 

Guilt clawing at him as he would dig through the rubble, Sylvain would worry that Byleth was truly lost to him forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments, I appreciate you, and the kind words you offer me. 
> 
> The Five Year Reunion is next and after that? Perhaps an angst-free epilogue lol.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not much of a writer, more of an artist, but it was driving me crazy that the more darker aspect of Sylvain’s relationship with the Professor has yet to be explored. 
> 
> Might make this a three-shot, one before the timeskip (but after the merge with Sothis) where Byleth gets even with Sylvain, and one after the timeskip where Sylvain can confront his feelings and be more respectful lmaooo.


End file.
